I also remember this Petromax contraption in the island destination which was the ancestral home of my grandmother. One of my earliest recollections is that of visiting the small island paradise, again, at a time when electricity hasn't reached their shores. I remember being scared of the volcano's looming figure from another granduncle's huge capiz windows. The floors creaked as we walked across the second floor living room of his bahay-na-bato house. The hardwood material of the house lent a general odor to the whole house which denoted its wear, tear and age. The Petromax was lit and we were all gathered in the kitchen for our meal. I still smell the Quaker oats that my mother brought along, as a comfort food for her toddler (me).
Last week, our city had its charter day celebration, and look what I found? A Petromax, I think lit by a electricity, as a detail for a landscaping, table-setting arrangement contest. It brought back childhood memories that will never visit children who grew up in the era of neon lights and halogen street lamps.
[caption id="attachment_201" align="aligncenter" width="580" caption="Petromax"]